


happy together

by allegrolines



Category: Infinite (Band)
Genre: (only a few months in the future tho), Alcohol, Established Relationship, Future Fic, Karaoke, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-07
Updated: 2016-06-07
Packaged: 2018-07-12 21:33:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7123330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allegrolines/pseuds/allegrolines
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Whatever Sungyeol sees on Woohyun’s face must be enough to convince him, because he springs up from the couch in a blur of long limbs and drunken enthusiasm. Woohyun laughs, looping an arm around his waist. Howon wonders if he means to keep Sungyeol upright; it seems kind of pointless, since Woohyun is practically as wobbly as him. Still, somehow they manage to stumble together and reach the mics safely, without neither Sungyeol nor Woohyun ending face-first on the floor.</p><p>“You’re staring, hyung,” Sungjong says, breaking Howon’s train of thought.</p><p>“I just don’t wanna miss their song,” he replies; Sungjong is kind enough not to laugh at him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	happy together

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [InfiniteRarepairFicathon2016](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/InfiniteRarepairFicathon2016) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
>  
> 
> Wooya do Karaoke

The room is dark, barely big enough for seven guys at their loudest. Howon can tell the air conditioner is working at full blast, the cold tickle of it drying off the sweat that slides down the back of his neck after he finishes singing. He shivers, making his way towards one of the couches and sitting next to Sungjong. Sungyeol takes the empty space at his other side right away, pressing a damp bottle into his hand.

“C’mon, drink and pour me one,” Sungyeol yells over the commotion that breaks by the screen when Howon’s score is announced—ninety two points, which are enough to keep him comfortably in the third place with just one more round to go. “It’s Namu’s turn next.”

Howon obeys, taking a swing of soju straight out of the bottle, then filling their glasses despite Sungyeol’s grimace of distaste. He reaches out for Sungjong’s too, who moves it away, shaking his head.

“I have an interview tomorrow morning,” he says, raising his voice so both Howon and Sungyeol can hear him. “I don’t want to be hungover for it.”

Sungyeol bursts into laughter, too close to Howon’s ear. “As expected, we can always count on our very responsible maknae,” he exclaims, swaying to the side and coming close to slide off the couch. He’s had a lot to drink already, since they’re celebrating his birthday and everybody keeps pushing drinks at him. Howon grips his shoulder to hold him steady.

“Someone _has_ to be responsible, hyung,” Sungjong says pointedly.

Howon means to reply, but then Woohyun comes towards them, the flickering lights casting violet and blue shadows on his face. He looks bright and excited, and all the words fly off Howon’s head.

“Yeo- _llie_ ,” Woohyun says, stretching the two syllables so it sounds like he’s crooning. “I need your help.”

“I thought you were gonna go next,” Sungyeol says, slurring a bit after another mouthful of liquor. He gestures vaguely with his hand, almost hitting his own nose.

“That’s the thing,” Woohyun says, “the song Dongwoo’s chosen for me has a few rap verses, so I need someone else to do them. I mean, I guess I could ask Howonie,” he continues, flashing Howon the kind of sharp, mischievous smile that never fails to make his palms sweat a little. “Or do everything myself.”

“No!” Sungyeol blurts. “No rapping!” He makes a face, then tries his best to—very unsuccessfully—frown at Woohyun. “It’s my birthday,” he says. “You aren’t allowed to rap.”

Woohyun snorts. “Are you gonna help me, then? Since I’m not allowed to rap?”

“But you’ll owe me, Namu,” Sungyeol insists.

“Yah, Nam Woohyun!” Sunggyu shouts from the other side of the room; Howon can see Woohyun roll his eyes. “Are you coming or not!”

“One second!” Woohyun replies, glancing over his shoulder. “Of course I’ll owe you, Sungyeol-ah,” he says when he turns back to them, his voice soft and serious.

Whatever Sungyeol sees on Woohyun’s face must be enough to convince him, because he springs up from the couch in a blur of long limbs and drunken enthusiasm. Woohyun laughs, looping an arm around his waist. Howon wonders if he means to keep Sungyeol upright; it seems kind of pointless, since Woohyun is practically as wobbly as him. Still, somehow they manage to stumble together and reach the mics safely, without neither Sungyeol nor Woohyun ending face-first on the floor.

“You’re staring, hyung,” Sungjong says, breaking Howon’s train of thought.

“I just don’t wanna miss their song,” he replies; Sungjong is kind enough not to laugh at him.

Woohyun starts humming over the first chords and Howon sips at his fifth—sixth?—glass of soju, not taking his eyes off him. He can recognize the song easily enough—Dongwoo has picked something recent this time—and his mouth goes dry when Woohyun’s voice rises over the instrumental track, clear like glass. 

There’s little that can keep Woohyun from getting some of the highest scores on norebang nights, as long as he is in a good condition—and even if he isn’t, sometimes. He’s been particularly on point tonight, singing as if he were in front of a crowd of thousands instead of just his six bandmates. Not only that—Woohyun looks like he’s having the greatest time of his life, dancing in front of the screen, even sneaking in a full body roll once, with so much momentum behind it that he almost loses his footing. He closes his eyes when he gets to the chorus and grins, wide and beautiful. Howon itches to catch the shape of that smile with his own lips, to taste the sound of Woohyun’s laughter on the tip of his tongue.

Woohyun lets his last note fade into silence and then turns around on light feet, bowing gracefully. Dongwoo’s laughter booms in the room; he’s on Woohyun a second later, smooshing his face between his hands, talking too fast and low for Howon to get any of what he’s saying. Sungyeol has his own little crowd around too, Myungsoo and Sunggyu and even Sungjong, who got up at some point without Howon noticing. The next shot of soju burns down his throat. The room is too loud—raised voices, the tinny sound of the norebang machine, the rattle of a tambourine—and all the noise is making his head spin, even though he’s still far from being drunk. 

“Fuck,” Howon mutters between his teeth, staring down at his empty glass. 

He feels swaddled in cotton, far removed from the rest of the group. This isn’t the first time Woohyun’s singing has affected him like this, but the sudden pang of emotion is too heavy and suffocating, like the song itself has got into his lungs and nestled in there, making it difficult to breathe.

He might not be drunk yet, but he does need some fresh air.

Howon rises to his feet so fast starbursts pop behind his eyes, floating in his line of sight like a firework display in miniature. He blinks them away, walking up to the door once the room comes into focus again. Sunggyu calls his name, asking him to order more food if he’s going out; Howon raises his hand in acknowledgment. 

When he comes out of the booth the lamps in the hallway are bright enough to hurt his eyes. Howon goes past other closed doors—he can hear the muffled sound of music and yet more laughter, if he pays attention—and turns right at the next corner, following the signs on the wall towards the emergency exit. His fingers slip on the handle before he finally gets a good grip on it and pushes it open, stepping eagerly forward. However, instead of the breeze he was hoping for a blast of hot air greets him, thick and sticky.

For days, all the weather reports have been talking of nothing but the upcoming hottest night of the season, and Howon can see exactly why. By the time he sits down on the fire escape there’s a fresh sheen of sweat on his forehead and neck, on the space between his shoulderblades and the small of his back. It’s the kind of night that would be perfect to spend by the sea, eating grilled rice balls and lighting up sparklers, but the view of the city from the tenth floor isn’t bad either, even though it’s fogged up by the heat. 

“There you are.”

Woohyun’s sneakers come into view first, backlit by the glow that spills from the hallway and onto the landing. Woohyun walks past Howon and towards the railing seconds later, leaning forward over it so the upper half of his body seems to be suspended in nothing but thin air. Howon’s stomach swoops with a wave of secondhand vertigo. 

“Yeah, you’ve found me,” he replies.

Even though it’s too dark outside to know for sure, Howon can feel Woohyun’s gaze on him. “You’re aware everybody is waiting for more food, right?” he says. “Food they assume you’re getting right now?”

“Shit” Howon replies. “I should—”

“Howonie,” Woohyun interrupts, “I’ve already ordered some. It’s no big deal.”

“Oh, you didn’t have to—” The words die in his mouth when he takes a better look at Woohyun and notices the ribbon tied tightly around his neck. Just the sight of it is enough to make him feel a little dazed. “What’s—?”

“Ah, yes. This—” Woohyun lifts his hand and touches two fingers to his own Adam’s apple. “It was Myungsoo’s idea,” he says, like that explains anything at all. 

“You could've taken it off,” Howon says, still looking at Woohyun’s throat.

Woohyun makes a sort of noncommittal hum. “I think I’ll leave it on for a bit longer, actually,” he says, and Howon can hear the amusement barely contained behind his words. “I see you brought company, by the way.”

Howon is confused, until he follows the tilt of Woohyun’s chin to the half-drunk bottle of soju at his own side, which somehow he doesn't even remember taking with him.

“Wait a moment. You aren’t even tipsy.” He’s aware he sounds almost accusing, but it’s not like he can help it—it _did_ look like Woohyun was getting fully plastered not even fifteen minutes ago, but now he’s unfairly collected, his mouth curved into a small knowing smile.

Woohyun laughs, then. “I haven’t had a drop of alcohol tonight,” he explains. “Sungjongie and Dongwoo’ve been helping me switch my drinks for water.”

“Jjongie and—” Understanding dawns on Howon, like a puzzle finally clicking together. “Dongwoo-hyung’s been drinking your rounds the whole time,” he says, both impressed and horrified. “If we end up having to carry him back home Sunggyu-hyung’s going to _kill_ you.”

“Yeah, well.” Woohyun’s shoulders ripple under his shirt when he shrugs, like the wings of a bird. “I’ll deal with him if it comes to that—not that I’m really worried about it.” He turns his head to the side, craning his neck so he can stare at Howon. “I’m surprised you didn’t realize I wasn’t having anything, though. That doesn’t really seem like you at all, unless—Were you distracted, Howonie?” he teases.

“Maybe I was,” Howon admits. He knows his pride would make it hard to give in so easily, if this was anyone else. It’s Woohyun, though, and pride is nothing compared to the way his face lights up whenever Howon indulges him. “You were having a lot of fun back there,” Howon adds, smiling back at him. 

“I was,” Woohyun says. He looks away again, resting his chin on his folded arms and staring ahead, tipping his face towards the city sprawling around them. A sudden gust of warm wind ruffles his hair, makes it stand up and then pushes it flat against his forehead. “It’s good to do something like this from time to time, just for fun,” he adds after a moment of silence. 

Howon doesn’t need to ask what he means. Tonight’s party comes after a summer of group promotions, but Woohyun had been busy even before that. Howon knows how long and hard he had worked to be able to sing and perform on his own, how he had put all of his heart and effort in each one of his songs. In Howon’s eyes, this has been Woohyun’s year without any shadow of doubt, but the stress has taken its toll on him—he’s just now beginning to regain some of the weight he lost, the harsh angles of his cheekbones softening a bit. Then again, Howon finds himself thinking, for someone who looks so big onstage, Woohyun has always been pretty small out of it.

(Or maybe is the other way around—maybe the truly amazing thing is that someone so small can fill a whole stage by himself, burning bigger and brighter than the sun.)

The bottle sloshes in Howon’s hand when he lifts it to his mouth. He winces at the bitter aftertaste that the too-hot soju leaves on his tongue. 

“Can you come here, please?” Woohyun says softly.

Howon goes, getting up and walking towards Woohyun so he can stand by his side, with his back turned to the steel frame of the railing. The air is sticking to his skin like a wet cloth, but Woohyun doesn’t seem to mind the humidity, shuffling one step closer. When Howon looks at him he can just make out Woohyun’s dark hair and that damn ribbon wrapped around his throat. But then his eyes adjust better to the dimness and he sees something else.

“You’ve got your shoulder taped again,” Howon says. There’s no point in asking Woohyun why he didn’t say anything before. It’s not like Howon isn’t familiar with all the ways a body can hurt, in a trade like theirs, and it wouldn’t be the first time one of them has kept working through an injury, either. He does wonder briefly if Woohyun is taking painkillers, though, and whether that’s the reason why he hasn’t been drinking tonight. 

“It just started bothering me a couple of days ago,” Woohyun admits. Howon stays silent, waiting for him to continue. “I’ve got an appointment with the physiotherapist on Monday. It doesn’t hurt that much, unless I make sudden movements,” Woohyun says. It might come a few days too late, but it’s a show of vulnerability, especially considering how he isn’t trying to hide the bandages from Howon now. “It’s not as bad as it used to be, in any case.”

“That’s good.”

Woohyun’s laughter rings a little hollow. “I’m not complaining, it’s just—” Another pause, a sigh. “I wonder if it’s enough, everything that I do.”

Howon inhales sharply and parts his lips— _Of course it is,_ he’ll say, and then _You’re always enough_ —but then Woohyun chuckles again, shaking his head. “Sorry,” he says, “this is meant to be a party. Don’t mind me.”

A car’s horn goes off a few streets away, making them jump. Howon’s reassurances remain unsaid—maybe it’s for the best, he thinks; maybe it’s better to show Woohyun how he feels, rather than relying on just a handful of words. “So, how come you asked Yeollie to help you with the last song?” he asks instead, hoping to lighten up the mood with the change of subject.

“You mean instead of you?”

“I mean—Well, yeah. That, basically.”

“Ah,” Woohyun breathes, stepping back from the railing and crowding in Howon’s space, “but that’s the thing, Howon-ah.” His face is very close, and his voice sends a sizzle of anticipation up Howon’s spine. “That was _not_ the song I wanted us to sing together.”

One day Howon might be able to resist the challenging lilt of Woohyun’s voice, but tonight his restraint snaps like an old rubber band. Woohyun is grinning when he leans in, so Howon gets to taste his smile after all, genuine and lovely. They kiss with the ease of years of practice; this is a well-rehearsed danced for them, an often-sung melody. Howon loves how the back of Woohyun’s head fits into the cradle of his hand, how he melts with the tiniest of moans when Howon’s tongue curls around his, hot and slick. But still, the little crinkle of the ribbon under the pad of Howon’s thumb is enough of a novelty to keep tugging at his attention. He pulls away slowly, then leans back in and presses a closed-mouthed kiss to Woohyun’s lips—and then another, and one more still.

“You like that, eh?” Woohyun says in a whisper, his eyes crinkling into soft half-moons.

Howon doesn’t reply at first, but his thumb keeps sweeping back and forth over the edge of the ribbon. “It looks—” _hot_ , he thinks— “nice on you,” he says.

Whatever Woohyun was going to say—nothing good, judging by the lopsided, wet curve of his mouth—gets cut by a ping coming from his phone. “Our food is ready,” he says, looking down at the screen. “You should go pick it up, Howonie.”

“What about you?” Howon asks, catching him around the ribcage. “Actually—What excuse did you give the others when you left?”

Woohyun’s smile turns sheepish. “Work call,” he replies.

“You liar,” Howon says fondly.

“You weren’t complaining so much when we were kissing.”

“Who says I’m complaining now, Woohyunie?”

“I’m going back to the booth,” Woohyun says, stepping out of Howon’s arms. “Don’t take too long with the food, Howon-ah. After all,” he adds, “it’s my turn to choose everybody’s songs next.”

Howon blinks at him; Woohyun is—he’s _happy_ , Howon realizes. He might be tired and still too thin, and his shoulder might hurt again, but he looks relaxed, comfortable in his skin. Something sweet and heavy swells in Howon’s chest. “Woohyunie?” he says.

“Yes?” Woohyun’s face when he turns around again is open and unguarded. 

This time, all the things Howon wants to tell Woohyun get lost somewhere along the way, before they can even reach his lips. He just stands there, helplessly tongue-tied. “Nothing,” he says at last. “I’ll be back in a moment. Don’t start without me?”

“I wouldn’t dare to,” Woohyun chuckles, and then he’s gone, the door closing behind him.

Howon deflates. One would think that after all the years between them, all the things they’ve gone through together, he’d be better at this.

The noise has gone down quite a lot when Howon gets back to the room, balancing three pizzas and two servings of tteokbokki. Everybody livens up at the sight of the food; Myungsoo practically runs to help him set everything on the table, passing napkins around. The smell of melted cheese and tomato sauce wafts from the boxes.

“You were gone for a while,” Sungjong tells Howon, his voice laden with so much casualness it makes Howon snort under his breath.

“I needed some fresh air,” he replies, in a similarly offhanded way.

“I’m sure you got _lots_ of fresh air, hyung,” Sungjong says back. “Especially tonight.”

Howon knows that trying to defend himself and talk his way out the conversation is a lost cause. “Just—Pass me a slice of pizza, Jjongie. C’mon.” 

Woohyun—who had been tucked away at one side of the room, talking to Sungyeol and Sunggyu, and with Dongwoo curled around him—walks up to the front and grabs one of the mics. His smile shines, highlighted in green and pink and purple.

“So,” he begins. “Who’s ready for the last round?”

 

\---

 

There comes a moment, not too long afterwards—

“ _Who cares if it’s a little late?_ ” Woohyun sings. “ _Anywhere is fine._ ”

(A beam of light in navy-blue falls diagonally on his face, and when he spins mid-verse his eyes pause on Howon.)

“ _As I hold your hand. As I match my steps with you, let’s go._ ”

Howon feels weightless, like he could float away at any given moment. He wonders if it’s the soju, if it’s Woohyun’s voice again; if it’s both of those things, or neither of them. He thinks about every choice he’s made, and how, little by little, they have taken him to this very moment, sharing a norebang booth with his second family, his belly full of cheap food and expensive booze, and his heart beating so hard against his ribs it feels like it might bruise.

“ _Right in front of me_ ,” Woohyun finishes the song ever so sweetly, still staring at him. Howon’s vision may or may not blur with tears. “ _Is the world I was looking for_.”

 

\---

 

In the end, they have to carry Dongwoo outside and hold him upright while they wait for their cab to arrive.

“The first night in a while that we can all go out together, and you end up like this,” Sunggyu grumbles, lisping all over the place while he readjusts his grip on Dongwoo. His own steps are shaky; it looks as if he’s about to collapse under Dongwoo’s boneless sprawl. “How much did you even drink, for fuck’s sake?”

Dongwoo’s reply sounds like a cross between a giggle and the meow of a newborn kitten—extremely cute but ultimately unhelpful. Woohyun ducks his head and steps behind Howon to hide his laughter.

“What did I tell you?” Howon says, lowering his voice. “Sunggyu-hyung’ll kill you if he finds out what you did.”

“So let’s make sure he doesn’t,” Woohyun replies. He’s walking with a slight spring on his step, the ribbon still wrapped around his neck.

“Dongwoo-hyung’ll probably tell him at some point.”

“As I said, I’ll deal with the fallout if it comes to that—Are you worried, Howonie?”

“Sure,” he replies dryly, falling silent when Woohyun hooks two fingers through one of the belt loops of his shorts. Howon can feel him tugging at it. “Have you told the others? About your shoulder?” he asks, much softer.

“Not yet.” Woohyun sighs. “I didn’t want to worry them.”

“We care about you.”

“I know.” He tugs on the waistband of Howon’s pants again. “I do, too.”

Woohyun lets go of him and rushes ahead, helping Sunggyu pour Dongwoo on the backseat of the car, and then moving to exchange bows and a few polite words with the driver. Sunggyu takes the passenger seat, while Myungsoo and Sungyeol stumble to pile on the empty space next to Dongwoo, who looks like he’s already sleeping.

“I parked over there,” Sungjong says, pointing at the narrow street that disappears around a building, two blocks from where they are standing.

“Will you be fine going back home alone, Sungjongie?” Woohyun asks, walking towards them.

“Of course, hyung,” Sungjong replies. For a moment it looks like he is hesitating, like he wants to add something. “Take care of yourself, okay?” he says in the end. “Goodnight, Woohyun-hyung, Howon-hyung.”

Howon waits until Sungjong’s turned around the corner and is out of their sight, then says, “He knows something’s not right with you.” 

“That doesn’t surprise me,” Woohyun replies. “He helped me earlier, after all.” He chews on his bottom lip. “Are you coming with me?”

“Depends. Are you driving us home?”

Woohyun’s answering smile looks like everything Howon loves about him. “Let’s go to see the river first,” he says.

Howon laughs. “Isn’t it kinda late? Next thing you’ll tell me you wanna go watch the sunrise together.” It’s meant to be a joke, nothing more than some gentle teasing, but Woohyun blushes immediately. “Oh,” Howon says.

“I thought we could get some food? Or just something to drink,” he babbles. “It’s not like—We don’t have to go. You must be tired, right? You had a lot of soju tonight.” 

“Ey, it wasn’t a lot,” Howon protests weakly.

“I just thought—” Woohyun starts.

“I can’t promise I won’t fall asleep on you,” Howon cuts in, “but we should go anyway.”

Woohyun unlocks his car. “I’ll try to live with that,” he replies.

They drive in silence, with just the murmur of a talk show playing on low for company. Howon gets the window down on his side to feel the wind against his skin, even though it’s still too hot to be entirely comfortable. He can already see glimpses of the Han river glowing between the buildings, the city lights dancing on its surface like a swarm of fireflies.

“Can you sing for me again?” he asks after a while.

“Of course,” Woohyun replies. He stops the car on the riverbank, switches off the radio, takes a breath.

This time—at some point in the middle of a late August night—Howon’s voice meets his, two lines into the song.

**Author's Note:**

> _I didn’t know the world_   
>  _I always smiled_
> 
>  
> 
> _The short little boy_  
>  _Who had a dream that resembled the blue sky_  
>  _At some point, he’s climbed over the wall_
> 
> \---
> 
> The first song Woohyun sings (with Sungyeol's help) is Junsu's "Flower"; the second one is Park Hyoshin's "Happy Together".


End file.
